Salve Regina
by Daeleniel Shadowphyre
Summary: Genderswitch: It was understood that Colonel Mustang was ambitious. Just how ambitious was carefully not spoken of among those who knew andthe whys of it even less. Edward Elric has a habit of uncovering secrets, whether he means to or not.
1. I

**Title:** Salve Regina

**Author:** Daeleniel Shadowphyre

**Feedback:** darkone2813 at mindspring dot com

**Fandom:** Fullmetal Alchemist

**Genre:** Alternate Universe, Drama, Angst, Action/Adventure, Romance

**Rating:** R

**Pairing:** Edward Elric/Roy Mustang (Het; genderswitch)

**Summary:** It was understood that Colonel Mustang was ambitious. Just how ambitious was carefully not spoken of among those who knew. The whys of that ambition were spoken of even less. Edward Elric has a habit of uncovering secrets, whether he means to or not.

**Warnings:** Standard Shadowphyre Warnings apply. Het, genderswitch, profanity, some eventual sexual content, nudity, and don't expect me to be apologetic about any of it.

**Disclaimer:**FullMetal Alchemist and related characters and themes belong to Arakawa Hiromu, Square Enix, and Funimation. This is a non-profit work of fiction.

**Notes:** Once upon a time, on the twenty-eighth of September, Asha tossed down the gauntlet of challenge in the steelandsparks LJ community. On the seventh of November, unable to resist a challenge even in the face of an already daunting number of works in progress, I picked the gauntlet up again and accepted the challenge. The guidelines were simple: well-written, beta'ed, well developed, and serious... genderswitch. On Mustang only. And Edward Elric must find out. -sweatdrops- Er, did I say those guidelines were simple? -clears throat- The title is Latin, meaning, "Hail to the Queen!"

**Dedication:** To Asha-- equivalent exchange.

**Distribution:** Ask, and ye shall receive.

**-I-**

**H**IS LEFT HAND was cold.

In the fuzzy blankness enshrouding his mind, Edward Elric wondered what had happened to his gloves. He always wore them, always, anywhere people could see him. It wasn't vanity, he told himself forcefully, not really; incidental that the plain white gloves - his only real concession to the military's leash beyond the silver pocket watch, he told himself - hid his automail right hand from view, diverting the looks of pity and morbid curiosity. Ed had yet to decide which of those looks was worse, but it didn't matter. The gloves were practical, keeping his flesh hand warm and--

_--granite, calcium, quartz, silicon, lichen, plant matter, carbon, soot, iron--_

--protected from the cold winds that blew through Central this time of year that no amount of soaking up desert warmth beforehand could protect him from. His hand spasmed briefly, fingers scraping against the pavement. Stifling a groan, he shifted and levered himself up from the ground. Pain sliced through his head and the groan broke free as an agonised whimper.

'Brother!'

The voice was loud, echoing and high. Ed flinched from the sound even as he reached out and caught hold of--

_--iron, titanium, oil, iron oxides--_

--Alphonse's plate-armour arm.

'M'alright, Al,' he mumbled, clutching at his brother's arm in an effort to haul himself upright. He couldn't feel anything from his right arm, which did not bode well for the condition of his automail. Winry was going to murder him.

'I want to murder you myself!' Al said indignantly from right above him. 'You really scared me this time, Brother.' The huge gauntlet hands were at odds with the scolding tone, gently lifting and helping Ed to sit slowly upright. Ed grit his teeth in a parody of his more usual manic grin as he fought for control of his roiling stomach. When he was reasonably sure his lunch would obey his commands to stay down, he tentatively cracked open one eye to look around.

He caught a brief glimpse of the alley, the smouldering remains of a warehouse, several blue-uniformed military personnel, and his own leather-clad legs before his vision swam. He clenched his eyes shut, unable to suppress a moan as he reflexively let go of Al to bring his hand up to--

_--fibrine, albumen, nitrogen, phosphorus, sulphur, saline, potassium, iron, soot--_

--the sluggishly bleeding gash over his left eye. Damn, he owed Mustang now, though he couldn't decide if he owed his bastard colonel a sucker punch to the jaw or a debt of gratitude. Not that he'd admit to the latter. Fuck, his head was hurting.

'Did we win?' he choked out. 'The hostages... Al, was anyone hurt or--'

'Brother, you're bleeding!' Al interrupted, his voice rising with alarm. Ed flinched.

'Not so loud!' he complained. He really didn't want to attract attention right now, not when his head felt like it was being split apart and his vision was faulty and his automail useless... and, damn it, he had no idea what had happened beyond a really spectacular explosion he doubted he was responsible for but would probably get blamed and raked over the coals for anyway. The measured rhythm of booted feet approaching told Ed all he needed to know about his chances of going unnoticed any longer and he slumped in Al's hold.

'Fullmetal, what's your status?' the aforementioned bastard colonel asked as he reached them.

_In a shitload of pain, asshole, what the hell to you think my fucking status is?_ Ed thought with a snarl. He vaguely heard Al stammer out an apology of some kind. Why was Al apologising? Ed was the one who'd fucked up and gotten hurt.

'I have been able to overlook Fullmetal's insubordination when he _isn't_ injured,' Mustang interrupted dryly. 'Although it can't be too bad if he is still insulting me.'

'Don't feel too special, bastard, it's probably reflex by now,' Ed gritted, forcing his eyes open enough to glare at his commanding officer. Despite his best efforts, the edges of his vision began to grey out and he let his eyes fall shut again.

'Fullmetal! Status!' Mustang barked. Ed tried to scowl, but that hurt too much.

'One. Big. Bruise,' he bit out tightly. 'Head trauma, concussion, um... can't tell if the cut's still bleeding.' He hesitated, then added reluctantly, 'Automail arm is disconnected and unresponsive.'

'It's shattered, Brother,' Al confirmed. Ed groaned.

'Winry is going to _kill_ me!' he said with certainty.

'It is equally likely that Miss Rockbell will kill _me_,' Mustang remarked. The rustle of stiff fabric indicated he had crouched down next to Ed and Al, and a moment later Ed felt a warm hand on his shoulder where flesh met metal. The unexpected contact made him flinch, but both Al's and Mustang's hands kept him still. 'It appears that your arm was struck rather forcefully by flying shrapnel from the explosion. Shrapnel is also likely the cause of your concussion.'

It had to be Ed's imagination that Mustang was sounding guilty. Still...

'That'll teach me to duck better,' Ed grumbled. Then, because he wanted to get away from that topic and Al hadn't answered him earlier, he asked, 'What about the hostages?'

'Six of them have been accounted for,' Mustang said. 'We're still looking for the last three.'

Ed had to remind himself to breathe. 'I see.' His hand was clenched against his thigh; he relaxed it deliberately, keeping his palm facing up. Thinking hurt - everything hurt, really - but he made himself concentrate. 'Al, could you find Hughes? He needs to know what I learned while I was in there.'

'Are you sure, Brother?' Al asked worriedly. 'You're injured, surely it can wait...' Ed cracked an eye open and tilted his head to look up into the visor of the helmet that served as his brother's head, forcing his lips to stretch into something closer to a smile.

'Sooner the better, eh?' he said with a flippancy he didn't feel. 'C'mon, go get Hughes. Colonel Bastard here can make himself useful.' He let his eye fall shut again as his brother blurred and greyed. With his eyes shut, he couldn't see the looks he knew were being exchanged between his brother and his commanding officer, but he felt it when Al's cool armour arm shifted and was replaced by Mustang's smaller but no less sturdy flesh arm.

'I'll be right back, Brother,' Al assured him, gauntlet brushing tentatively light against Ed's shoulder. Then he was up and moving, the quiet clank and rattle of armour echoing off the walls of the alley as he moved away. Ed waited until he could barely hear the metal footsteps against the pavement before he rolled his head in Mustang's direction.

'Sir,' he said soberly, ignoring the way Mustang's body tensed against his at the professional address. 'Two of the hostages are dead. A man and a woman. The man was killed in front of us to make a point. The woman--' He stopped, bile rising in his throat again. This time, the nausea would not be quelled, and he barely managed to roll himself over and away from Mustang before his stomach heaved.

Strong, warm arms wrapped around his torso, supporting him up away from the pavement without confining him. The heaving and the change in angle made his head throb and he felt weak and unsteady. It was all he could do to keep from going limp in Mustang's arms, and he really didn't want that humiliation on top of this one. He breathed harshly, spit to clear his mouth, and coughed.

'She screamed for a long time before they finally shot her,' he said, his voice scratchy and hollow in his ringing ears. 'They took turns. And made the rest of us watch.'

The arms around his chest tightened convulsively, making Ed want to squirm. The action didn't feel _bad_, really, but the feelings it implied from Mustang - concern, protectiveness, and a wish to comfort - made Ed uncertain. The idea that Mustang had a certain interest in the well being of those under his command, particularly Ed and his brother, was not a new one as anyone in Mustang's unit could attest to. He was not, however, demonstrative about it in any sort of overt fashion-- out of a sense of dignity, Ed thought, both for his staff and himself. Wanting to move past this bit of awkwardness, he said quickly, 'Everyone else was still alive when all hell broke loose.'

To his relief, the statement did the trick. Mustang's arms loosened around him, allowing Ed the room to roll himself back to his previous sitting position. _Oh. Damn. Bad move,_ he thought as his head began to throb again.

'How are you really feeling, Fullmetal?' Mustang asked dryly. Ed snorted softly, not daring to make the sound more pronounced for fear of what it would do to his head.

'Like my head wants to contest Major Armstrong for his fucking alchemist title, and like I might fall off the damn world if I open my eyes,' he admitted acerbically, 'and if you tell Al that, I'll transmute you into a fucking paperweight.'

'Oh, spare me, anything but that!' Mustang snorted. 'If I offer you a hand, could you stand up?'

'Don't put yourself out on my account, bastard,' Ed mock-simpered, opening his eyes to look up at Mustang. He was startled at how close the other man was to him, but had to squeeze his eyes shut again as the world chose to move without him. 'Slowly,' his said grudgingly, low-voiced.

'Try to get your feet as far under you as you can when I lift,' Mustang murmured, reaching out to take--

_--dihydrogen monoxide, carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, ammonia, calcium, adenosine, nitrogen, phosphorus, sulphur, potassium, iron, sodium chloride, copper, zinc, magnesium, cobalt, iodine, testosterone, estrogen--_

--Ed's bare left hand in his own bare right hand. Ed's eyes flew open involuntarily to look--

_--magnesium, calcium sulphate, albumens, sodium, lipids, dihydrogen monoxide, white blood cells, potassium, chloride bicarbonate, fibrinogen, amino acids, haemoglobin, glucose, protein chains, globulins, iron, oxygen--_

--up into Mustang's face. The colonel's eyes widened, startled, not having expected--

_--deoxyribonucleic acid, adenine, glucose, cytosine, thymine, sodium ions, guanine, phosphate, potassium ions, phospholipids--_

--for Ed to look at him. He was still pulling Ed up and Ed had to fight around the dizziness and confusion and--

_--estrogen, chromosomes, oxyhaemoglobin, iron, carbon dioxide, testosterone, ribonucleic acid--_

--pain raging through his head in order to get his feet somewhat under him. His ears were ringing. As his vision began to fade and tunnel, he could hear--

_--XY chromosomes, XX chromosomes, protein chains, XX, XX, XY, XX, XY, XY, XX--_

--Mustang as if from a great distance, calling his name, yelling for Ed to stay with him.

_Yes, ma'am,_ Ed thought giddily as blackness overtook him and he descended into the dark silence of unconsciousness.


	2. II

**Title:** Salve Regina

**Author:** Daeleniel Shadowphyre

**Feedback:** darkone2813 at mindspring dot com

**Fandom:** Fullmetal Alchemist

**Genre:** Alternate Universe, Drama, Angst, Action/Adventure, Romance

**Rating:** R

**Pairing:** Edward Elric/Roy Mustang Het; genderswitch

**Notes:** Please reference chapter one for the summary, disclaimer, and any other relevant information.

**Distribution:** Ask, and ye shall receive.

**-II-**

**B**EEP. BEEP. BEEP.

The sound - high-pitched, steady, and annoying - gradually pulled Ed up out of his comfortable oblivion. Pain was quick to assert itself as dark faded up to grey, but it was muted almost to the point of an afterthought. His left hand was resting on something crisp yet flexible, and the litany of "_cotton fibres, carbon, chlorine bleach, starch_" was a dull murmur in the back of his mind.

A cadence of sound started up next to him, discordant against the pulse of beeps in his ears. He twitched and made an annoyed hum in his throat. He felt nice and floaty, and a part of his mind was screaming that this was Not A Good Thing, but he was tired and the voice was easily ignored.

He slept.

**T**HE NEXT TIME he roused, it remained dark. His mind felt clearer, which he considered a good thing, but the lingering pain in his head and the automail port for his right arm was also clearer, so perhaps it wasn't so good.

Ed blinked his eyes open and stared up at the shapeless, even grey above him, taking stock. That shapeless grey likely became unrelieved white during daytime. His left hand catalogued the chemical structure of starched bed sheets tucked around him. Soft sniffs at the air presented him with the scent of antiseptic. The beep from a heart monitor intoned steadily to his left.

A hospital, then. Ed nodded to himself, cautious of the motion and glad to find that it didn't immediately send him reeling. From the way his automail port was aching, the shattered remnants of his arm had been detached already. The wince Ed made had nothing to do with the pain; Winry really _was_ going to kill him this time.

The rasp of someone snoring filtered in over the beeping heart monitor. Startled, Ed pinpointed the sound and let his head roll slowly to the left. When his eyes found the source of the quiet snores, he nearly bolted upright in shock. The blue uniform could have belonged to any number of the people he worked with on any kind of regular basis, but the body slumped over an sleeping in the chair by his bed was, unquestionably, Colonel Roy Mustang, the Flame Alchemist and Ed's personal pain in the arse.

Slowly, memories filtered back in disjointed fragments from the... Well, Ed really had no reference for how long he'd been out, but he suspected it had been a day or two. Six of the hostages alive, Mustang had said. Two were dead. One unaccounted for, as far as he knew. Sending Al off to find Hughes so he could explain that to Mustang, then passing out before either the Lieutenant Colonel or his brother had returned.

The insistent, unrelenting, completely _contradictory_ catalogue of Mustang's biological structure as Ed's bare hand had met Mustang's. Letting his eyes un-focus, he mentally called up that thoroughly jumbled litany, running through it until he came to the anomalies. Shit. If his sense was correct, and it was rarely ever wrong, then Mustang wasn't the man Ed had thought him - her - to be.

_Well, shit._

Giving Mustang a quick glance full of his unvoiced confusion, Ed returned his gaze to the suddenly very interesting ceiling and settled in to think. Logically, he knew that basing his suppositions off of a concussion-addled involuntary scan was a bad idea, so he wasn't about to commit himself without talking to Mustang first. Ed scowled; and this time, the bastard was going to give him some straight answers, damn it!

There was, of course, the possibility that it wasn't Mustang at all, but Ed couldn't find any traces of the Philosophers Stone shards' unique chemical and alchemic signature in his recollections, so it was highly unlikely that Ed was dealing with a homunculus. And yet, he couldn't think of a reason for Mustang to have those conflicting chemical patterns. High levels of estrogen, testosterone levels lower than most men but higher than a woman, XX and XY chromosomes existing side by side... Just what the hell was going on?

That question occupied Ed until he drifted back off into an uneasy sleep.

**S**OMEONE WAS TALKING when he woke again. From the timbre of the voice, Ed guessed that Mustang was discussing his condition with someone, probably a doctor. Either that, or he was trying to score a date with one of the nurses.

Or maybe not. Ed gave what he hoped was a purely mental wince, recalling what he'd surmised about his commanding officer. Like it or not, he was going to have a serious, _private_ discussion with the... with Mustang.

_Fucking hell,_ Ed thought irritably. _Biology aside, the colonel's still a bastard. And that's one bastard I need to talk to._

Mind made up, Ed shifted deliberately to draw the attention of the people at the door. Unfortunately, the movement awakened several of Ed's sore muscles and he bit down on an exclamation. Hearing someone shifting his IV line, his eyes flew open in panic. 'No!'

'Settle down, Fullmetal,' Mustang's voice cut through his panic. 'It's just an antibiotic to fend off infection.'

'No painkillers,' Ed insisted, eyes finding Mustang's unerringly, pleading.

'No painkillers, and no sedatives,' Mustang assured him, nodding. Ed stared at Mustang piercingly before he nodded slightly, relaxing enough to let the nurse near and averting his gaze from his commanding officer in embarrassment. He _hated_ appearing weak in front of Mustang - in front of anyone - even when the weakness was, somehow, understood. Come to think of it, if anyone was able to understand Ed's aversion to drugs that effected his perception, it would be Mustang.

When did that happen?

The nurse had finished with his IV and was lingering, twitching Ed's sheets back into place as an excuse to stand next to Mustang. Ed rolled his eyes as the woman fluttered at Mustang; how terribly _not_ surprising. A glance at his commanding officer, however, proved that Mustang was completely ignoring the nurse. Damn. This wasn't the kind of conversation that needed witnesses, especially civilians, but how to get rid of her? He didn't want to have to pitch one of his famous fits. He wasn't sure his head could take it. The concussion may have gone down, but his head still hurt like hell.

'Hey, Colonel--'

'If you think--'

They both stopped and blinked at each other. The nurse giggled slightly, but, when she realised they weren't paying attention to her, quietly withdrew. When she was gone, Ed felt his shoulders relax a bit more. Mustang raised an eyebrow at him inquiringly. 'Care to continue?'

'Oh, no, you go ahead,' Ed said, waving his only hand slightly, still mindful of the IV line's presence.

'If you insist,' Mustang returned dryly. 'I merely wished to suggest that, if you think you are up to it, we might resume your report where we left off.'

'Sure, that's fine,' Ed said, dipping his head slightly in a cautious semblance of a nod. 'Er, how much of my "report" do you have already?'

'Are you saying you don't remember?' Was it Ed's imagination, or were there equal parts of concern and tentative relief in that question?

'Oh, no, I remember everything,' Ed said firmly, thinking, _You're not getting off the hook that easily, Colonel_. He then averted his eyes and fidgeted just a bit. 'I just... I'm not too sure any more how much of it I actually said out loud.'

'I see,' Mustang replied warily. 'Well. Judging from some of the responses you gave, it seems you were vocalising any coherent thoughts relevant to the questions you were asked.'

'I'm not apologising for it, you know,' Ed said immediately, mentally groaning as his mind offered up some of his more _colourful_ thoughts from that informal debriefing in the alley.

'I would not expect you to, Fullmetal,' was the dry response. Ed risked a glance at Mustang's face and was startled yet again by the faint smile on his commanding officer's face. If he didn't know better, he'd think the expression was... fond, almost. The smile was gone far too quickly, though, as the Colonel went on, 'We found the bodies of the two deceased hostages, as you said. No sign of the ninth hostage as of yet.'

'The others?'

'A few cuts, bruising, and a bit of scorching,' (and it was _not_ Ed's imagination when Mustang looked rather chagrined at that) 'but no real lasting physical damage. Havoc and Fuery are working with Hughes to locate and contact families and... next of kin.'

Ed dipped his chin downwards, fixing his eyes on the sheet covering his legs.

_You saved six of them,_ his mind reminded him.

_Not enough,_ he thought back. _I should have been able to save all of them._

_If you had revealed yourself to the terrorists, they would have killed you first, and then who would have protected the others? Who would have had to tell Al that his big brother was dead? Who would have been there to help Al get his body back again? Your dear Colonel, perhaps?_

'Fullmetal--'

'Colonel, you--'

Again, they both stopped and looked at each other. Slowly, Ed's lips twitched up into a sardonic grin. 'You first.'

'Oh, no, by all means, go ahead,' Mustang returned with a faint shadow of a smirk.

'If you insist,' Ed said lightly, but sobered a moment later as he recalled what he was about to say. Briefing or not (and this would probably have ended up in the unofficial report anyway, he reminded himself) this would have to be addressed now. He was going to have to word it carefully, though, in case of any listening ears; Ed didn't kid himself that he, as well as Mustang, were probably under surveillance from _someone_. With careful deliberation, he said, 'Mus-- Colonel. It has come to my attention that you aren't the man I thought you were.'

It could have easily been taken for an awkward sort of non-apology for all the shit Ed had hurled at the Colonel over the years of his enlistment if he had not very deliberately shifted his gaze to Mustang's chest on the word "man" before meeting his commanding officer's eyes. Ed might have even been gratified by the response it earned him if this hadn't been so serious; Mustang looked completely stunned, his pale face going even more pale and his slanted Xingian eyes going very wide. 'Fullmetal, what--'

Quickly Ed lifted one hand to his ear and flicked his gaze towards the door. As shocked as Mustang was, the Colonel was still quick on the uptake. No further words followed until Mustang had closed and locked the hospital room door and retaken the chair beside Ed's bed. Ed, meanwhile, had struggled his way up into a further sitting position by means of his still-tender stomach muscles. For a moment, they sat there, regarding each other. Mustang looked wary, while Ed was just calmly certain. He waited.

'The hospital is equipped with white noise generators to keep traffic in the halls and on the streets from disturbing patients,' Mustang said finally.

'I'd wondered,' Ed murmured, filing the information away. Maybe more of his more dodgy reports should be given in hospitals. Not that his reports were dodgy, or that he liked being in hospitals at all. 'So,' he said at length. Shit, this was harder than he'd thought. Without really thinking about it, he blurted out, 'How long have you been female?'

**O**F ALL THE conversations Colonel Roy Mustang had thought would take place with Major Edward Elric, this was _not_ one that had been on the list. After all, Roy Mustang being female? The idea was ludicrous! And, unfortunately, more true than said Colonel wanted to admit.

Roy twitched. She couldn't help it. Yes, her body was female, but she still reacted to things as a man would, didn't she? She was still male on the inside, right? What really irked her, however, was that Fullmetal had found out. Somehow, he knew - and that wasn't speculation she was hearing, he _knew_ - that she, to borrow his phrasing, was not the man he had thought she was. She had been prepared for speculation, been prepared for concussion-addled confusion, not this cold certainty, and she didn't know how to deal with this.

There was a good deal of fear involved as well. Roy was under no illusions about her relationship with the short-tempered blond alchemist, and it wasn't amicable. They seemed to swing back and forth between clear-cut professionalism and volatile showdowns with little to no middle ground. That, too, made Roy wonder; she had PMS to deal with, so what was Fullmetal's excuse?

'How long have you known?' she sighed. No sense denying it, after all. He wouldn't look that certain if he wasn't confident in whatever source had revealed her. Ouch, that was another thing to worry about.

Fullmetal was frowning slightly. 'How did it happen?' he asked, completely ignoring her question. Roy clenched her hands on her knees.

'How did you figure it out?' she asked, her tone just barely shy of biting. Fullmetal's eyes flared and he opened his mouth in what she knew was going to be an angry retort. Then he stopped, closing his mouth again and looking at her with narrow-eyed consideration. Roy waited, not at all certain of what Fullmetal was looking for. She wasn't certain of anything right now. She was tired, still mentally smarting over what her flames had done at the warehouse, and was getting the distinct impression at headquarters that she was being watched more closely than usual. It was more than a little unsettling, and this confrontation with her youngest subordinate was not helping matters. If anything, matters had just become more complicated.

'All right, Colonel,' Fullmetal said at last, relaxing the glare and tilting his head slightly in a gesture Roy was sure she'd used herself. 'I say we settle this with some equivalent exchange.' Seeing her blank look, he went on, 'We're both alchemists, after all, and I know you weren't born female or you wouldn't be so alarmed right now. So. You tell me how and when this happened to you, and I...' He paused, taking a deep breath. 'I'll tell you when I learned of it and _exactly_ how I know it's true.'


End file.
